Cat Girl
by Terra Cloud
Summary: She wakes in chains, and soon discovers the only thing she has to point herself home is a collar around her neck. However no one knows where her home actually is.


Her head hurt. Like somebody had decided to ram sticks through her ears.

"What the hell..."

Words. Words? What did they say? Why weren't they staying still?

"...is that a monster?"

No, not words, she thought. People. Voices. Who? Friends? Enemies?

_Monster?_

What monster are they talking about?

"I really have no idea..."

_They are men, _ she thought. Slowly, ever so slowly, her senses were beginning to trickle back into her mind. She could hear the voices now, snatch some meaning. They were confused. In shock. Two.

One had a quiet, reserved voice, and the other was loud and annoying.

Names. She needed names to discern the voices. She did not know their names. So she would give them names.

Osmon would be the one with the quiet voice. Clements would be the annoying one. At least, until she knew their real names.

Slowly, she began to crack open her eyelids, her sight blurry and unfocused. Steadily, her body began to regain feeling, and she discovered her body felt weird. Mushy, almost. Something was wrong. Her legs felt stretched and strained, and her arms prickled uncomfortably. Why...?

"Uuugggh. Why do we have to transport this thing anyways? It's so pointless. We're not going to get any money out of it," Clements whined. She could see through the blur that he had extremely blond hair, or was that just the light?

"Actually, the boss reckons the Circus'd pay a bit of money for her," Osmon's hair was definitely blond, she could see as her vision sharpened. And Clement's hair was actually black. And they were framed by something and light was shining through it. What...?

"How do you know it's a her?" Clements asked.

"Looks like one to me," Osmon replied.

"But what if..."

Her mind blocked out the pointless banter as she tried to get a better picture of where she was. Wood... Rough wood. She could now feel the splinters in her thighs. These people were not rich.

And that frame was door frame. For what? Transport. Carriage?

Why was her neck still numb? Why did it feel heavy? Her nose twitched from something vile and acidic. What was that terrible smell? Where was she being taken? Why...

_I don't understand..._

Her head began to hurt again.

_...Am I the monster?_

The girl pondered this for a while before deciding that the matter of her monsterism was something best pondered when additional data had been collected. Data like what a monster even was, and whether it was always a bad thing, or only in certain circumstances or for certain people, like it seemed to be for Osmon and Clements. She instead turned her attention back to their conversation in hopes of gleaning something useful.

"Look, all I'm saying is that males of that thing's species could have tits." Clements' annoying but insistent voice bloomed into focus within her ears.

"Ugh, whatever, you're full of shit," Osmon sounded tired and bored. She decided he was the more reasonable of the two. "Let's just get this over with. I'll drive, you guard the prisoner."

"No way! I'm not getting in with that thing!"

"Fine then. Have it your way. Just try not to crash like last time... I'm sure the boss would be displeased if you did..."

She sensed movement as the one she called Clements moaned "I see what you did there," and felt the presence of somebody jumping into the front of the wagon... carriage... thing.

"That didn't go as planned," Osmon's voice muttered as he climbed into the mode of transportation. "Damn quick bastard is incorrigible..." The light was shut off as a creaking sound resonated through the vehicle. The smell was worse now. Much worse.

She realised what she smelled. Blood. She was in danger.

Suddenly it felt as if the cotton wool that had been smothering her mind was burned away by a firey, natural instinct to flee. She needed to get out. She needed to get out...

That is how her senses crashed back into normal being.

Her eyes focused, her body ran alive with the feel of cold iron upon her neck, wrists and limbs. Her nose was afire with the acrid scent of blood and sweat that emanated from every pore of the rough wood. She could hear so many things now, the bustle of more people outside, the creak of the wood as Clements sat down in the driver's seat of the wagon (it was most decidedly a wagon, judging by the interior shape, she thought) approximately thirty point five eight six centimetres away from her (how she knew that number she did not know). Osmon was sitting on a bench not too far away from her, head resting in his hand.

She realised that the light had been shut out by the wagon doors closing. And she realised she was chained to the wall of the wagon opposite the door with her arms raised above her and her legs bent behind her in a very awkward position. And... Her tail..?

"Really? You lot chained up my frigging tail?" Osmon gave a small squeak of shock at the sudden voice. Her voice, she realised. It did not have a name to go with it.

Her tail had been pinned to the wall in a most cruel, inhumane manner, iron pegs completely cutting off any circulation or movement, and the tail itself being bent at strange angles. She looked up in satisfaction at the shaggy blond haired man, happy she could make him squeal so pathetically.

"Y-you can talk," He murmured under his breath. "The thing can talk..."

"Hey now, Osmon, that's a bit mean. I'm not a thing." She glanced at herself an realised from previous reactions that she must be an anomaly of some sort. "Okay, maybe I am a thing. But since you're being inhumane enough about this already, could you please unpin my tail? It's not like it has opposable thumbs or anything so I can't exactly escape." Stay calm, her mind muttered. Let the adrenaline pulse through you.

And it did, a tidal rush through her veins that set her newly awakened senses on edge. She was aware of everything, from the slightest movement out of the corner of her eye to the smallest change in scent. The danger set her on edge, but she still managed to exude a calm demeanour as she took in the situation. She noted a set of keys at his waist while the man struggled for his next words. She might need those.

"Osmon?" Finally, the man seemed to get over his shock of a strange creature talking and was taken over by the shock of a strange creature calling him a name.

"The name I gave you," she explained. "I had to call you something while lying here regaining my senses, didn't I? The other one is Clements. Now, tail, please."

"B-but my name's not Osmon... It's Connor..." He stuttered, while tugging on an iron peg. The thing was stuck fast in the wood, it refused to come out. The iron peg was really quite comfortable.

"I don't care. I'm used to calling you Osmon, so that's what I will continue to call you. Now please remove these blasted restrictey thingies. Might I suggest a lever of some sort?" She decided that the fear and adrenaline had either made her a ridiculously lucky idiot or a genius. Either way, it appeared to be working. Her master plan. That she was currently in the process of improvising.

"Well I suppose unchaining your tail couldn't do any harm... But what to use as a lever...? Ah!" Osmon disappeared into a compartment underneath the lid of the bench he had sat on, searching for the fruit of his idea. She could smell iron coming from the bench, and judging by the metallic clangs resounding from the compartment, it must be filled with tools and/or weapons. _Excellent._

There was a small grunt of satisfaction as Osmon reappeared with a crowbar in hand. "This should work," he said, ramming the crowbar into the first iron peg and pulling it out of the wood with ease. He moved on to the next. The iron pegs were displeased.

She checked how free her legs were. She would need them for this master plan. There was a fair amount of loose chain, which would allow her to move her legs as much as needed.

"There we go... All done." The sound of the last peg hitting the wooden floor coincided with Osmon's voice. She thanked him by swinging her leg out from under her and connecting it rather heavily with his face.

The girl let out a breath she hadn't known she'd been holding as Osmon slumped to the floor, unconscious, with a loud _thunk_.

"Osmon? What's happening back there?" Clements' muffled voice made her suck that breath back in. Her body tensed. She realised she'd need to improvise the next part of her plan quick.

Whinnies were neighed, reins pulled as the wagon decelerated. The girl's tail slithered towards Osmon's body, searching for the keys which she hoped would open her chains. Wait, was he...?

The girl groaned inwardly. Of course he was lying on top of them.

She nudged the body with her foot, trying to turn it, as the wagon jolted to a stop. Osmon, originally on his side was now on his back and her bluish-purplish tail had again began its desperate dance for freedom as it tried to wrestle the keys from Osmon's side.

Osmon's hand tightened around her tail as he raised his face to meet hers. Pain ricocheted up her delicate tail and she had to stifle a shriek.

"Just how stupid do you think I am?" he asked, before yelling to Clements; "It's nothing, get going again. We're going to be late." Her ears recoiled from the point blank shout.

Clements responded: "You're not having fun with the prisoner, are you?"

Osmon's face contorted in disgust. "You sick fuck. I have standards."

"That's not what it seemed like last week," Clements retorted as he cracked something leather, and the makers of the whinnies began a chorus as the wagon started moving again.

Osmon turned his attention back to her, grip tightening on her tail as his blue eyes stared calculatingly into her own. "I'll admit I'm impressed by the dexterity of your tail. Now we know to keep it chained at all times..." he trailed off into his own thoughts, eyes staring above her head. "Perhaps this will impress the boss enough to give me a promotion..."

"So this was all a test?" she asked, ignoring the pain in her tail and calling the attention of his eyes back to her own.

"Of course," he said, smiling condescendingly. "I figure with my reports on your abilities with your tail, we can sell you for an even higher price. Circuses love shit like that, an attraction that can literally steal money from its customers," His grin widened. "Did you really think it would be that easy to escape?"

By this time, the girl had already grabbed the keys from his waist with the toes on her right foot, so she simply swung her left leg over his head and wrapped the chain attached to her shackles around his neck and pulled. "Yes," she simply said as he loosened his grip on her tail.

Osmon slumped against her chest after being sufficiently asphyxiated, his earthy-sweat scent cloying her nostrils. She twisted her tail around the keys held by her right foot, and deftly unlocked the bonds attaching her to the wall.

The neck one was the last to be taken off and curiously though the heavy collar was removed she still felt the presence of something around her neck. She lifted her hand to her neck and sure enough, something leather was wrapped around it.

Her fingers felt a pendant and lifted it to her eyes for her inspection. There were words inscribed upon a circular piece of metal, and a bell hanging next to the circle. It jingled softly as the girl ran her fingers over the words.

_If found, please return to Bran Bral, Terra_

The girl had no idea where that was. She turned the metal over, finding there was an inscription also on the back.

_Hi, my name is Terra_

Paw prints surrounded this particular inscription.

"Guess my name is Terra then," Terra said, wondering why someone liked the name Terra so much, as the wagon slowed to a stop.

"Yo Connor, get the cargo ready to transport, will ya? The guy's already here, I better go talk to him." Clements' annoying voice rang through the wood and creaks resounded through the structure as he disembarked. "Connor?"

Terra quickly pushed Osmon's body out of the way and pounced on the bench from which she had smelled iron. Lifting up the lid, she grabbed the two things on top and jerked them to the ready as Clements' footsteps rounded the wagon, getting closer to the back doors. "Connor? You're not doing anything obscene, are you? You bastard."

Terra sank down low and tensed, wielding a crescent shaped blade in each hand. They were shoddily made, simply crude iron bent and pressed into shape, but she guessed they would do. Her bare feet were balanced on their balls as she waited.

"I can't believe this," Clements muttered as he drew the iron bolt back and opened the wagon. "I'm going to tell everyon-"

Terra clotheslined him with a sickle as soon as the door was open enough and started running. The overpowering scent of human sweat almost bowled her over as her feet hit the grimy cobblestones beneath her and a swarm of blue and yellow colours hit her face. She heard Clements' body hit the ground, she saw tall buildings around the edge of what appeared to be a courtyard, she noticed the movements of things that contrasted against the background and could be potential threats. People, she realised. Lots and lots of people, bustling around cages containing animals and brightly coloured tents strung up around the courtyard, all going about their business. Only one man with a particularly tall hat seemed to care about her running form. And as soon as his care was noted by the others, they all began to care.

"That is my prize! She is getting away!"

The deep announcer's voice grabbed the attention of all the people around her, the people in tights and in giant puffy costumes and in skimpy outfits, all those who previously wouldn't have cared if she had turned into an elephant turned their attentions to her and Terra had to pivot and swivel her way through reaching hands and leaping tackles until they had corralled her into a doorway set in the outside of a building.

Terra didn't bother to check if the door was locked. She figured either way the door was going to get itself kicked in.

After mutilating an innocent door, Terra made her way up several flights of stairs, the circus hot in pursuit. She noticed doors being opened down hallways as people came out to see what was going on and pelted down to the door at the end of a hallway, pushing the tenant behind her and rushing into their dirty hovel. She leaped over their poor excuse for a bed and ran for the closed window, noticing a building outside that was lower than the window.

She figured she might as well give it a shot. The alternative was being locked up in a cage like those poor beasts back at the circus.

Terra cannonballed through the window, glass fragments flying around her and tinkling like fairy dust. She stretched out her arms, still holding the sickles, hoping they would give her extra length.

_I can make it, _she thought.

The sickles caught the edge of the building, then snapped because they were shit.

_Fuck._

Terra's forward momentum brought her crashing into the wall of the other building, knocking the wind out of her and giving her no time to recover as she started falling.

_Hmm. Well that failed miserably,_ Terra lamented, disappointed her master plan didn't quite work, black hair being whisked around her face as she fell, and lungs limp and out of breath. _Guess I die now._

Something grabbed her wrist and stopped her fall, the sudden jolt dislocating it. It hurt, but Terra didn't have any breath to cry out as something pulled her over an iron fence onto a balcony protruding from the building she had just crashed into. Gasping, she dropped the sickles she hadn't realised she was still holding, and collapsed to the ground as she regained her breath.

"I think you just fell for me," joked a teenage male voice.

Still gasping, she looked up to see a sandy long haired boy dressed in a waistcoat, some sort of frilly thing and an oversized pair of gloves and boots.

* * *

**That is the end of the chapter, I hope you enjoyed~**

**Final Fantasy 9 does not belong to me, no matter how much I may wish it.**


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